The Thinker
by This Strange Soul
Summary: Thinking is not what Lily Evans is most fond of at the present time. An L/J One-shot.


The Thinker

_'We think too much and feel too little'_

_- Charlie Chaplin_

The reason History of Magic is the most torturous class in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is not that it is so mind-numbingly boring.

It is because it gives you too much time to just sit there and _think_. And thinking is not what Lily Evans is most fond of at the present time.

Especially when Professor Binns has done Lily either the great disfavour or the great courtesy (she can't decide which) of moving James Potter to the seat directly in front of her. Actually, perhaps she should blame, or thank, James for the new seating arrangement. It was his rather loud outburst of laughter at something Sirius Black had said that had caused Binns to make his first interaction with a student that Lily had seen in almost six years of taking this class (really, he was that loud).

Anyway, whoever's fault it is, the point is that being forced to see the back of James Potter's rather attractive, although also quite inflated head every time Lily looks up from the notes she is taking is not very good for her current thinking problem.

Because James Potter is the very unlikely subject that she is thinking about.

Okay, so maybe it's not all that rare for her to be thinking about James Potter. She's often sat there and fumed about something or other he did to her or Severus. It's _how _she's thinking about him that's the rarity.

She thinks that maybe, just _maybe_, she may be falling for him. Falling really, really hard.

_Merlin, this is bad. Very, very bad._

It's been in the back of her mind all week, ever since he hugged her tight after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Final. It had been in the heat of the moment, and they had both embraced nearly everyone else in their house in the rush of elated victory, but the memory of his strong arms around her and the smell of him (a suprisingly pleasant aroma of wet hair, grass and sweaty teenage boy) is now etched in her brain.

A piece of paper scoots across the desk in front of her.

_Like the view? - M_

Lily glares witheringly at the blonde seated beside her. Marlene McKinnon grins knowingly and wiggles her eyebrows.

Marlene noticed Lily's sudden interest in James Potter (or at least, an interest that didn't involve her trying to strangle him with her mind) almost as soon as it arose. There was no keeping things from Marlene 'I-stick-my-nose-in-everything' McKinnon.

As a long time member of the James Potter Is A Top Lad Club, Lily's best friend was elated by the development, and took it upon herself to ensure that Lily would inform said 'Top Lad' of her affections.

Marlene obviously does not understand the delicacy of the situation.

If it was any other boy, Lily would do what any other red blooded seventeen year old girl would do and _go for it._

But James Potter is not just any other boy. She has history with this boy. Long, complicated, I'm-not-going-to-bother-explaining-because-it-would-take-all-day history. And throughout that history there's been a single thought that's buried itself into her heart, lodged inside her veins.

He's not good enough.

She knows she's a bitch for thinking it. A cold, heartless bitch.

What kind of person _thinks that_? Certainly not Lily Evans, who was once described as the 'patron saint of seeing the good in everybody' by Marlene, and who was best friends with a boy who most of Hogwarts would agree is a good for nothing dropkick of a person (but that's another story). Lily has always prided herself on this quaility, so it comes as a great annoyance to her that she seems unable to get over this one thought.

But is it really that big of a deal? Why can't she just get over her pride? She told him to do the same thing countless times.

And she thinks he might be changing.

No, she thinks he might_ have changed. _He's already there, just waiting for her to see it.

She thinks of maybe saying yes to him, just to try it. Just to see what it would be like to be with James Potter.

She thinks of his lips on hers, firm but gentle, and his hand brushing her waist tentitively. Her fingers running through his thick, unruly black hair, as her legs fall open and wrap around his...

"Lily, can I borrow a quill? Mine's just broken."

Snapping out of her reverie, Lily notices that James has turned around to speak to her. It takes her a few moments to realise that he's waiting for her to answer him (of course this has nothing to do with his bloody gorgeous eyes).

"...Oh, right. Sure." She retrieves a quill from her bag and hands it to him, going a little red even though he can't possibly know what she has just been imagining.

"Alright? You look a little flustered." He's looking at her quizzically, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

"Fine...I'm fine." she replies. She really needs to pull herself together.

"Sure? Your face is all red." His eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Positive." she forces confidence into this.

"Really?" his smile is a full-blown smirk now.

"Mmhm." she nods.

"True?" he mocks skepticism.

"Yes. James, I'm fine." she asserts, looking back down at her notes because the conversation is much to flirty for comfort. Or maybe that's just her imagination.

"So, what are you doing?" he whispers, dropping the interrogation. He turns the seat slightly in order to face her more easily.

"Err...well, we're in class, so I'm taking notes." she practically spells out for him, as if he's incapable of comprehending this.

He rolls his eyes over-dramatically. "Lily, it's _History of Magic._ Nobody just 'takes notes' in _History of Magic_. If you did, you'd go mad with sheer boredom. So what are you really doing?"

Obviously she can't divulge that she's been having a fantasy about him. Or can she? She's sure he wouldn't mind... No, that's stupid. She'll just settle with...

"I'm thinking."

"Ah. Original." The sarcasm is clear.

She scoffs at this. "Well, sorry I'm not hunting dragons in Asia. It's a little hard to do from a school desk in Scotland. Anyway, what are _you _doing, if mere thinking is too common for you?"

He ignores the implied insult. "I'm sorry, that would be telling." he tries to appear solemn.

"Is it a prank?" she shoots back.

"Now, why would you immediately assume that?" he asks, placing one hand on his heart, acting pained by her inquiry. "You wound me, you really do."

She stares at him pointedly.

He beams, a little guiltily. "Well, maybe you should avoid the entrance hall straight after class."

"I _would_ like lunch, you know. Without a dungbomb in it." she drawls, unimpressed.

"Who said anything about dungbombs? They're really quite amateur, in my _humble _opinion." She laughs unbelievingly at the word 'humble'. The corners of his mouth rise slightly at this, and then he continues. "What we have planned is much better."

"I'm sure it is, but it still better not ruin my lunch. I'm actually quite hungry." she glares.

"Don't worry about that." he dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "It's not aimed at you, anyway."

"Oh? And who _is_ the target?" she questions, although she knows the answer.

"The Slytherins. They're still going on about how Hooch was 'biased'. Apparently she fancies me."

"Really now? They said it in so many words, did they?" She knows James' ego makes him prone to exaggeration.

"Well, the way they're carrying on, you'd think she did." he allows. She thinks she hears a double meaning in his voice.

A few seconds of silence. He gazes at her, a abrupt look of wonder in his eyes, leaning forward to rest his chin on the back of his seat.

"So, what were you thinking about anyway?" he asks, changing the subject his tone suddenly softer, but probing.

"That's none of your business." She tears her eyes away from his, turning to take a sudden interest in Binns' lecture.

In her peripheral, she can see him purse his lips slightly, his attention still firmly on her. They stay in limbo for a moment. It's like the air in the room has suddenly intensified, a lingering feeling of..._something_ in the air.

All she can think is _'He knows. Shit, he knows.'_

"Well," he whispers finally after a while, with refreshing humour. "I'll let you get back to your thinking, then. Just don't hurt yourself, yeah? There's such a thing as thinking too much." He smiles, pulling at her heart and releasing the tension. "I should know."

A little more time passes and he turns back around, leaving her there.

_There's such a thing as thinking too much._

After class, when he winks at her as he hurries off with Sirius, Remus and Peter (presumably to prepare the prank), and she goes off to lunch with Marlene, she thinks he might just be right about that.


End file.
